


The Half-Light's Crown

by asexual-fandom-queen (writeordietrying)



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Babies, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Minor Sara Lance/Leonard Snart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-11-10 13:12:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11127660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeordietrying/pseuds/asexual-fandom-queen
Summary: Mick smothers a yawn behind his hand and Ray glances at him over his shoulder. His hair sticks up in every direction, but it’s still so thick and dark and inviting, Mick wants to run his fingers through it. Whether to straighten it out or mess it up even more, he isn’t sure.“Hey,” Ray greets with a soft, tired smile. “I made you some coffee.”





	The Half-Light's Crown

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ChillinLikeVillains](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChillinLikeVillains/gifts).



> **Prompt: "I made you some coffee. You want some Aspirin?"**
> 
> I usually don't post my prompt fills/drabbles to AO3, but since this fic broke 1k, I figured it was worth throwing up here, too. 
> 
> Thanks [ChillinLikeVillains](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChillinLikeVillains/pseuds/ChillinLikeVillains) for the prompt, and thanks for letting me go Atomwave with it. I somehow haven't written them yet even though they're my OTP to end all OTPs as of late, so it was about time.

Mick’s head feels full and groggy, a dull pain throbbing behind his eyes, as he shuffles into the kitchen. The sky is still dark outside the windows, the first traces of light turning deep navy into bright cerulean near the horizon.

Mick smothers a yawn behind his hand and Ray glances at him over his shoulder. His hair sticks up in every direction, but it’s still so thick and dark and inviting, Mick wants to run his fingers through it. Whether to straighten it out or mess it up even more, he isn’t sure.

“Hey,” Ray greets with a soft, tired smile. “I made you some coffee.”

Mick shuffles forward and rests his forehead at the nape of Ray’s neck, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of Ray’s spine as his arms circle around Ray’s waist.

Mick feels the vibrations in his chest when Ray chuckles. “You want some Aspirin?” he asks.

Mick grunts, punctuating the affirmative response with another kiss against Ray’s warm, bare skin, and Ray pulls out of Mick’s arms, much to Mick’s disappointment. Ray passes him a steaming mug of coffee -- black with three heaped teaspoons of sugar, just the way he likes it -- and Mick takes a long, greedy sip, trying to dull the ache pounding in his skull.

Ray roots, one-armed, through the cupboard above the stove as he keeps the other held tight to his front. He grabs a bottle of Aspirin, but doesn’t bother fussing with the cap, just passes the whole thing back to Mick, then picks up his own mug once more.

Mick takes two tablets from the bottle and downs them in one go with a swig of coffee that halfway melt them on his tongue. Mick pulls a face, then takes another sip to wash the taste from his mouth.

“Those are extra strength,” Ray warns.

Mick shrugs. “Hasn’t killed me yet,” he replies.

They’re quiet for a moment, drinking their coffee in intimate, companionable silence, until the sudden noise of gurgled fussing erupts from the tiny bundle cradled against Ray’s chest.

“Oh, hey, someone’s up,” Ray says, putting his mug down on the counter to shift the baby in his arms. “Hello, Little Miss Laurel. Did you sleep well?”

Mick scoffs. “No,” he says, downing the rest of his coffee in one go.

Ray frowns. “That’s okay,” he murmurs, to Laurel, like she can understand him. “You’re still a peanut. You’ll sleep through the night when you’re ready.”

“I’m starting to get why Mommy and Daddy wanted the night off,” Mick rumbles as he washes his cup out in the sink. Ray’s still got his eyes focused on the kid, all tiny wrinkles of fair skin and clear blue eyes under a mop of surprisingly thick, blonde hair.

“Hey, can you grab--” Ray starts, but Mick already has the fridge open, grabbing a bottle of breast milk Sara left for them to heat up -- “ _in a water bath, Mick, not the microwave._ ”

“Thanks,” Ray says as Mick takes the bottle and a pot half-full with water to the stove. Mick opens the gas and puts the pot on to steam.

“You doing okay?” Mick asks as Ray fights back a yawn. He looks damn adorable, eyes pinched, jaw straining, with arguably the cutest kid Mick’s ever seen wrapped up in his arms. Mick’s not usually baby crazy, but half the magic is probably that she’s Len’s. Or that he’s watching the man he’s pitifully in love with cradle her to his chest. Either way.

“Coffee’ll kick in soon,” Ray replies.

Mick shakes his head. “Still can’t believe people do this to themselves on purpose,” he says, glaring pointedly at Laurel, still a little miffed at being kept up all night. Ray shrugs, but the corner of his mouth turns down, too, and Mick frowns. He works his throat to push past the lump stuck there, to say what he really wants Ray to know but feels oddly off-centre admitting.

“‘Course, with the right person,” Mick says finally. “Might be kinda nice.”

Ray goes shock still. He looks up at Mick, eyes bright and hopeful in a way that always makes Mick’s stomach flop. “Are you talking about us having kids?” he asks.

Mick grunts and stalks forwards, moving to the stove to take the pot off the heat and drop the bottle inside to warm through. It’s an evasive tactic, Mick knows, but he’s never been good at feeling vulnerable.

“If you want.”

Ray chuckles, light and breezy, and something hard and dark knocks loose in Mick’s chest. “We’re not even married yet,” Ray says. Mick feels the brush of an arm against his own as Ray undulates in place, side to side, to keep Laurel calm.

“Yeah,” Mick says. “We can do that first.”

Ray stops dead again. He nudges Mick’s with purpose, and Mick looks over at him.

“Are you proposing?” Ray asks, his voice thready and raw.

Mick averts his eyes. “What?” he snaps. “Am I taking the magic out of it or--”

Ray cuts him off with a swift, bruising kiss that makes Mick’s toes curl. He wraps his hands around Ray’s hips and pulls him as close as he can manage without crushing Laurel between them. Mick melts, lets his muscles go slack and sighs into Ray’s mouth. He’s tired and his head hurts but this feels good. This feels so, so good.

“That’s a yes, by the way,” Ray whispers as they pull apart for air. The stupid, sentimental idiot even has tears in his eyes. “Yes, I wanna get married. And have kids. Maybe even get a bigger apartment.”

Mick’s about to argue they already have a spare room they don’t use, but maybe that room won’t remain unused much longer.

“And as for the magic,” Ray adds, stepping back and pulling the bottle from the water so he can check the temperature of the milk against his wrist. “Don’t worry. The wedding will have tons!”

Suddenly, Mick’s having second thoughts. “Damn it, Haircut,” he groans. “I ain’t a Disney prince.”

The smile Ray sends his way is dopey and adoring. “You’re my prince,” he says. He steals another quick kiss from Mick, and Mick lets it drag on for longer than he should to really get his disapproval across.

“I’m serious,” Mick says, giving Ray as stern a look as he can when he’s a little starstruck himself. “No doves.”

“But, Mick--”

“No doves.”

Mick crosses his arms over his chest, putting an end to Ray’s pleading. He tilts his head though, guilt cropping up, as he watches Ray turn to Laurel like a dejected puppy as he brings the bottle to her lips.

Mick huffs. Fine.

“Fireworks are okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [Tumblr!](http://asexual-fandom-queen.tumblr.com/)


End file.
